


Angel of Music

by SunBathingDragon



Series: Angel of Music [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, TheDeckerstarNetwork Hell-oween Exchange 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunBathingDragon/pseuds/SunBathingDragon
Summary: Although Lucifer Morningstar speaks all languages he is fluent only in one, when it comes to his own emotions: In the universal language of Music.A five-part journey to explore Lucifer's inherent creativity and spark for music, arts and creation through the ages. Deckerstar centric and Trixie-aided.





	Angel of Music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DifferenceEngineGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DifferenceEngineGirl/gifts).



> Dear DifferenceEngineGirl, I am abysmally sorry that I am so late to the party. You should have received this gift much earlier, namely on Halloween! But life, work and a little stupid accident got in the way. 
> 
> I hope you do not mind the loads of fluff and cheesy music feelings and that you will like it a bit.

**Interstellar Going Home (Requiem et Inceptum: Music for a funeral and a new beginning)**

 

When she looked back at their growing, deepening relationship, it had strangely all started out with Charlotte’s funeral.

Where Chloe had noticed, for the first time since she _KNEW_ , that Lucifer was fluent only in one language when it came to expressing himself: in the universal language of Music. While the Devil absolutely sucked in all other languages to describe his own needs and emotions - even though he _was_ fluent in all of them. It that made any sense.

Charlotte’s funeral, of all things, was the turnaround where Chloe decided to leave all doubts and rationale aside, and follow her heart. Where she promised herself that, whenever there would be _human-divine_ misunderstandings between them, she would prod Lucifer to resent to the one language he was able to use to explain himself – to music.

It was not just that Lucifer was virtuous on the piano, or masterful in playing more than one instrument, as Chloe learned over time. Or that he had this wonderful rich, vibrating _angelic_ voice that send chills through her soul - and sometimes to more intimate parts of her inner core.

No, it was much more. When Lucifer played or sang, he was present in the moment. Completely. He _became_ music - Lucifer seemed to touch all dimensions that lay between earth and haven and made them vibrate, shine, harmonize.

 _No wonder they all flock to him like moths to flame, when he sits at his piano in Lux_ , Chloe thought.

 _And I’m learning to accept that as part of his personality_....

 

\-------------------------******************----------------------------

 

Back then, just a few days after Charlottes’ and then Marcus’ (no, Cain’s!) death, the knowledge that Lucifer ultimately was who he had always claimed to be was still so raw and fresh that it utterly hurt and confused Chloe.

The greatest problem Chloe struggled with was not that Lucifer was the Devil _per se_. There had been far too many unexplainable, nagging titbits of utter _Luciferness_ around him before, which she had always shoved aside, buried deep down below.

She was, after all, a detective and therefore prepared to some degree. Chloe could just berate herself that she had been too blind to connect the dots all by herself earlier!

No, the problem was the fact that her agnostic worldview had been turned upside down – what was she supposed to do now, run to church each Sunday...? Pray to Lucifer’s Dad, worship someone who had kicked his son out, for what, exactly....? She needed to ask him, _needed to_... *sigh*.

Questions popped up in Chloe's mind like bubbles in a boiling can of oil whenever she was awake!

Another pill that was hard to swallow for Chloe was the fact that there was a _light-year wide gap_ between the human-cultural perception of THE DEVIL©, as in THE INCARNATE EVIL - and the wonderful, caring, yet childish-selfish but generous _man_ , no _Archangel_ (she corrected herself) whom she had come to.... _ahem_ , _value_ , as her partner in crime and.... _friend_.... over the last two years.

The last few days had been a rollercoaster of emotion. Chloe had asked Lucifer to leave her a bit of space to process it all. To which he had obliged, as usual, with a soft “as you wish, detective”. His warm brown eyes hurt and devastated.

\----------------------

Funnily, it had been her daughter and her best friend Zoé (who would both probably not even be _there_ if it hadn’t been for Lucifer and Maze!) who helped Chloe to grow into the facts of her new-discovered reality. More than she was ready to admit to herself.

Chloe had gotten the odd feeling that the girls even dedicatedly played _mediator_ between her and Lucifer; that they did not only try to help _her_ , but that they also tried to help _Lucifer_ with the necessary acceptance that she, Chloe, knew the truth about him.

Yes, she had told Lucifer straight away that she would not run! But obviously, he – The Devil! – needed more soothing of _his_ fears and anxiety than _she_ did. A soothing that the girls seemingly provided. The girls, who now, after their recent ordeal, more than ever had grown into young _teenagers_ instead of kids.

And these girls were up to something with Lucifer, Chloe could tell as much!

Just that morning Chloe had left her bedroom after a surprisingly tranquil night with sound, recreational sleep. She thought that she was the first one up and out of bed. Chloe had tiptoed downstairs to prepared breakfast, silently, to let the girls sleep. (They slept longer now that they left childhood behind and morphed into teens.)

As Chloe stood in the doorframe to the living room, her eyes opened wide in surprise. Trixie and Zoé were already out of bed, dressed, the table halfway laid for breakfast. Their dark-haired heads were nested together as they face-chatted animatedly with Lucifer; Chloe identified his sonorous warm voice instantly.

The girls didn’t notice Chloe standing there; Chloe on the other hand was too baffled by what she heard to make her presence known.

“No, no, it’s not too cheesy, not at all! It sounds so... _beautiful_ ”, Trixie breathed, “Dad will love and hate it – your music will go straight to his heart and help him cry! You know....” Trixie listened for a few seconds. “Uh-huh. No. No, Lucifer, don’t worry. It’s _good_ for us, humans, I mean, to cry when we are grieving “, Trixie explained to a seemingly worried devil, “Crying cleans our souls and helps us cope.” To Chloe’s surprise, Lucifer made a humming noise on the other side of the line – one she recognized as the sound that meant “I gained new insights on humans in general” during one of their cases.

Since he was not. Human. Which made so much more sense now....

 _And_ w _hen had her little monkey grown that old and wise?_ Chloe mused.

“Yes, yours is a _much_ _better_ version than the one in that film – _that_ one's cheesy, but yours is – _divine_ , Mr. Morningstar....!“ Zoé giggled frantically at her own words and Trixie joined full force. The girls had just discovered the art of intended puns.

Chloe heard Lucifer snort at that, then talk. The girls listened to him for a few seconds, eyes glued to the phone. Chloe heard his voice, but could not make out the words. Then Zoé blushed. “Yes, Mr. Mor... _Lucifer_ ” she whispered, suddenly shy. Trixie elbowed Zoé and voiceless mouthed “... _told you to say Lucifer!_ ” Both giggled again.

Then Lucifer asked something. Trixie made a throwaway gesture and wrinkled her nose. “Mom is ok, Lucifer, she’s just a bit out of her element, I guess, but she’ll come around! _Mmmh...?_ ” Trixie listened, then cut Lucifer’s laments short. “No, surely not. Don’t be so afraid!” Trixie reassured him by employing Chloe’s best “Mom” voice. She even held up her index finger to the phone

Chloe had to suppress a smile. She felt suddenly very proud of her too-fast-growing-up daughter. Lucifer said something. A question, by the tones of his voice.

“Yes, I did”, Trixie nodded and smiled proudly into the phone. “I’ve placed it under her pillow the night you gave it to me. You were right; her bruise is healing faster than humanly possible! It went from blue-red over green-yellow to a fading brown already, in just two days. Yes, I think she did sleep well. No. No worries. _Uh-huh_...”

Trixie and Zoé nodded vigorously into the screen. “You’ll see for yourself this afternoon, at the funeral, Mr... _Lucifer_ ,” Zoé supplied. Both listened a few seconds, then Trixie spoke again.

“No, really! You have my word - mum will come around. No. _Please_ _don’t fret_ , Lucifer!” Both girls giggled frantically and elbowed each other at Trixie’s daring to scold _THE DEVIL_ ©.

 A warm feeling started to spread in Chloe’s chest that she could not define. Strangely, witnessing the immensely _domestic_ scene between her daughter and her... _partner_ grounded her more than any Psychologist ever could have managed, even skillful, experienced Linda.

It felt normal, adorable even, on both ends. The Devil seeking the advice of a 11-year old on the matter of human emotions? If this was not downright cute, Chloe didn’t know what was!

 ------------------------

Chloe silently retreated into her bedroom and closed the door. The voices of the girls and Lucifer faded to a murmur in the background. Chloe’s heart swelled with warmth towards “her” girls - they were both so full of live, love and compassion; both had seemingly adapted to this new divine reality within just the blink of an eye, had overtaken her in a heartbeat, while she.... Chloe felt slow on the uptake like an old languid Brontosaurus!

She approached her bed. What was it that Trixie had placed under her pillow on Lucifer’s request? She snatched up said pillow.

There it was.

Brilliantly white, lamb-soft and glowing with an inner light.

One of Lucifer’s large, beautiful, elegant scapular feathers. One not sprinkled with blood....

As she picked it up, warmth spread through her fingertips – and something else. It felt like – music.... as if she touched a distant peaceful chord.

 

No wonder her sleep had been so refreshing.

 

\-----------------******************----------------

 

Charlotte’s funeral wake had started out as a little private service in the oldest church in LA. Or so Dan had it planned, Chloe knew. Which was a good thing, he needed distraction like a thirsting wanderer needed water in the desert.

The wake ceremony had been announced at the precinct and with a tiny newspaper ad. None of them had expected the wave of people that had turned up.

The benches of the old church, formerly father Frank’s church, were completely packed with people. Their murmuring buzz filling the air like an ocean breeze. Chloe glanced around – no chance whatsoever to make herself comfortable in the back rows.

“Mum, come on. Dad will need us!” Trixie tugged at her hand, while Zoé was already heading for the front rows towards her family. The Vanderbilts were sitting closely behind Dan in the second front row. Charlotte had recently fought for Zoé’s Dads’ working rights –  Zoé’s family had also come to pay their last respects and mourn the woman who had managed for Zoé’s dad to get back his job.

“What would I do without you, Monkey, you’re right, we need to support Dad, of course...” Chloe sighed inwardly, deeply. She had to clear her head off all the _Lucifer-is-really-the-Devil_ related stuff, _dammit!_

Oh.

Could she say that, still?

_Dammit?_

Choe blinked and shook her head.

“Lucifer will join later during the service, see the piano...?” Trixie squeezed her hand and pointed towards the sanctuary where a familiar, magnificent grand piano overlooked the gathering crowd. Unsurprisingly, it had been moved away from the altar as far as possible.

“How on earth has Dan managed to convince Lucifer....” Chloe’s mouth fell open while she stared at the piano.

Lucifer... would be there. She would see him again. After he had probably, no, most likely... saved her life. The Devil. Had saved her life. Had looked at her, on that roof where all the bloodied feathers had cached in the nets. His feathers. Had looked down at her. With these warm, caring, loving liquid brown eyes of his. “You’re safe! That’s all that matters!” echoed in her memory.

What would she say? Chloe’s head was still spinning, buzzing with questions. And oh, her heart, her traitorous heart - it had just done a brief summersault of joy. He would be there....

Chloe’s heart started beating, she breathed faster. The maelstrom of questions swelled, again. Then her logic mind mingled itself into the discussion, screaming “but he is the devil” at her. Chloe sighed. Deeply. Again.

Trixie, who had managed to manoeuvre her mother into the second bench row behind Dan, smiled up at her. Loving and understanding. As if their roles had been reversed. As if Trixie had read Chloe’s mind.

“It’s ok, mum, you’ll cope!” Trixie murmured soothingly and squeezed her hand gently. Her _little-no-longer-little_ girl flashed a reassuring grin at her, white teeth shining. _A mirror. Her daughter mirrored her..._

“You’ll see. It’s a big surprise. For Dad, and for all of us.... And it’s also Charlotte’s last will. I mean that Lucifer plays. Dad told me – Charlotte had asked for... “ Trixie’s hands made air quotation marks, “...the “Angel of Music” to send her home, as a last service.”

Trixie sniffled a bit. “...to guide her upwards, to heaven. She’d written that. Really! To Dad, I mean...” Chloe saw Trixie’s eyes glisten in the dimmed light. Her brave girl shook her head when Chloe cleared her throat to say something.

“Its ok, Mummy. It really is. You taught me it’s ok to be sad, and to cry while I’m sad, to let it all out. Remember? After Eddie died?” Chloe remembered it all to well – how Trixie had cried for days, three years ago, after the little grey Guinea pig of Olga’s had died of age, the one her daughter had saved from a dog attack and which had been her favourite ever since among Olga’s little Guinea pig flock. The one that had always greeted her daughter with loud whistling, recognizing her steps...

“You taught me that its not a problem if we need to cry. Your words, remember?” Trixie buried her hands in the pockets of her jacket and brought up two packages of tissues.

“I know how Lucifer plays. I’ve come prepared!” she grinned. Trixie’s dark eyes sparkled with emotion as she pocketed the Kleenex.

Sadness, wisdom, mischief.

Chloe’s heart swelled and went out towards her daughter. Her eyes caressed the dark hair of her monkey’s head, as her daughter leaned forward to hug Dan from behind.

She never witnessed something as beautiful as this.

Her daughter - growing into a complex, passionate, strong young woman.

Juggling her parents' needs.

 

\-----------------*********--------------

 

The juicy story of Charlotte’s death, murdered while seeking justice after a personal turnaround from judicial loan shark to Robin Hood of the poor had travelled wide and fast.

Chloe scrunched her nose while she looked around the beautiful old church that Dan had selected according to Charlottes wishes, over the benches completely packed with people.

 She observed how cameras where placed on statives, how journalists tried to occupy the best places trying and failing to look modest and grieving.

Yes of course, she should have foreseen this. The rumours that Charlotte might have been killed while hunting down THE SINNERMAN™, this Chimaera Urban Myth, who happened to – _allegedly_ – have been the Lieutenant of the LAPD: Could there be a more juicy story worth of a surge of press and paparazzi attention...? Chloe touched her pocket to ensure that she had her sunglasses ready at hand.

Others had come to say goodbye or to pay their last thanks and farewell to the woman who had fought for them.

Among those who really grieved was Mia Hytner, the beautiful young bartender with whom Charlotte had worked together to put the abusive sports legend Forest Clay behind bars.

\----------------------------------

A long-forgotten memory surfaced, of Lucifer in a church, taking a confession and ordering the woman to have “10 bloody Marys and a good shag”; memories of father Frank, and of how heartbroken Lucifer had been when he had lost him, just after finding one of his first friends on earth.... over music.

The rustling sound of black satin to her right made her turn his head. Linda. _Divine-insider-number-two_ Linda. Chloe smiled up at her friend, relieved to see her. She would need therapy sessions, stat....! Lucifer had even texted her that.... and she hadn't responded. Had left him hanging...

 _Please feel free to contact Dr. Linda any time. I informed her that you are in the Know now, and she agreed to take care of the aftereffects of...well. Me._ *devil emoj*

“How are you holding up, Chloe? Are you all right...?” Linda’s light-brown, anxious eyes embraced Chloe. Before Chloecould respond, however, Ella Lopez arrived more or less simultaneously and made herself comfortable next to Linda, just after she had hugged both women thoroughly, enveloping them in a cloak of excited, upbubbling words, made up to equal amounts of excitement and sadness.

Which prevented Chloe effectively to talk to Linda about matters such as (i) upturned worldviews, (ii) celestial insider insights in general and (iii) a certain absent Devil in particular.

\----------------------------

Surprisingly, they were all there: Almost half of the colleagues of the precinct, from the janitor to their new interim boss, back at work Lt. Munroe, plus all of those who had witnessed (and sometimes suffered) Charlotte’s struggles to become a better person.

A surprisingly large number of crime victims had shown up to say their farewell, victims for whom Charlotte had seeked – and obtained – justice in her position as federal prosecutor. There were many. Well. Charlotte had been good at what she was doing.

Chloe looked around as the buzz of many people talking in muffled voices intensified, as more and more people joined. Chloe identified Charlotte’s former family in the front row, her sad ex-husband (unbelievably in a suit without food stuck to it); and her children who Charlotte, as Dan had told her, had managed to see at least two times before she had been “forced to leave the earthly plane” by Pierce, as Lucifer had put it. Chloe shuddered when she thought of her former boyfriend and fiancé. Who had tried to kill her. And would have succeeded, if it had not been for the Devil(TM). Aka her partner.

Chloe squeezed Dan's shoulder after Trixie’s hug and gave him a sad little smile. Dan responded with a stiff nod and fumbled with the sunglasses he had stuck in his breast pocket. He was stone-faced, but Chloe knew him. The grief would come as inadvertantly as the flood. She was sure he felt the little waffle charm burning a hole into his pocket.

\-------------------------------

It was Daniel who had arranged the funeral.

After he had found Charlottes’ last will and testament - and her diary.

If Dan had not seen Lucifer’s wings already, he would have finally believed in Lucifer’s weird claims after reading Charlottes diary – how she had struggled to fit back into life; how she had met Amenadiel who had called her “mother”; how she learned that she had indeed been in Hell. From none other than Lucifer, who had (to Dan’s surprise) been gentle and surprisingly caring towards Charlotte; how Charlotte had fought tooth and nail to lead a better life and avoid going back to hell; how she had been shown by Lucifer and Amenadiel that she was not mad, that the Divine was real....

 _Oh, where are you now, my Love? You belong in heaven..._.

Daniel had repeatedly tried to reach Amenadiel but the – _Angel, really?_ – had kept a death silence towards him, which slightly annoyed Dan.

\--------------**********----------------

Charlotte had, to Daniels surprise, wished in her Testament for a church funeral. She had asked him to find a priest who was a true believer but no hypocrite; perhaps married and down-to-earth, if possible. She had wished for a person who represented the forgiving, loving side of faith, not the overly “holier-than-thou” kind.

After visiting a few parishes, Daniel had finally found the right person.

Father Graham, a bulky, bearded Scottish-heritage pather who’s piercing blue eyes twinkled under bushy brows.

They had sat in Father Graham’s little cosy kitchen. Talking about the funeral ceremony and Charlottes wishes brought Dan to his limits. His voice failed him repeatedly.

It was after the second grief attack on his voice that Father Graham had told Dan the story of how he had lost his wife eight years earlier. How his beloved Jenny had fallen victim to one of the too-frequently occurring school shootings, where she had succeeded in protecting “her” paralyzed, crying kids. How Jenny had been the last victim because just seconds later, a police bullet ended the snipers’ life.

Oh yes, Pater Graham was very much down to earth when it came to live being a bitch; he did not care if Dan and Charlotte were married, or if they had just been together for just a few weeks, not years.

When Dan finally broke down and sobbed into his arms, propped down on the old battered kitchen table in the Priests’ small apartment, Graham had gently squeezed Dan’s bicep in sympathy. His chair scratched as he stood up and rummaged in his cupboard, then opened a bottle of excellent 12-year-old Scottish Bouwmore Single Malt with a promising “plop”.

“I know, I know, right? Aye, getting drunk is no solution, and all that,” Graham said as he put a tumbler in front of Daniel and poured him a generous amount. He chuckled. “We Scots call this _uisge beatha_ , water of life.” His eyes twinkled as he pushed the glass to Dan, then suited himself. “The hurt and the pain is horrible. No words can take it away. Time does not truly heal it, that’s a lie.” Graham sighed.

“That you both had only such a short time span is even worse, and unfair.” Dan nodded. “It is. Was, I mean.” Dan run his hands over his red-rimmed eyes and took a deep sip from the tumbler.

“I can at least look back on 23 years together, thereof 19 years of marriage, on memories full of love, happiness and live.” Graham smiled a wistful smile. They clinked the glasses.

Grahams twinkling eyes misted. “You know, still after all these years without her, I sometimes wake up in the morning and feel her presence besides me, as if she had been there the entire night. As if I just have to reach out and _touch_ her. There, between sleep and wakening, I can even _smell_ her...”

“But then, when I wake up completely, there is just the empty bed and it crushes down on me - that she is gone...” Graham rubbed his eyes and his voice trailed away.

“How can you not be angry at God to rob her, to take her....?” Dan demanded. Graham considered that for a moment, lifting his tumbler and taking a thoughtful sip.

“You know,” he wrinkled his nose, “It is not God who is the one is doing these things....” Graham stared into the amber liquid in his glass.

“He once let us leave Eden. The Bible says He threw us out of Paradise; I mean as in us, humankind.” Graham frowned as if in disagreement. “I guess He let us humans become mature, let us leave the innocence of Not Knowing, let us make our own decisions – and He also lets us face the consequences. Free will. It always comes down to free will! For me at least, it does.”

“But how can you be ok with what happened? How could God let it happen? When Charlotte was just beginning to do all these good things in her new position....? _When we were just... when we started to...._ ” Dan’s voice broke. The horrible picture of Charlotte, bled-out and limp like a ragdoll unfurled before his inner eye, his little waffle charm dangling from her lifeless wrist.

Daniel groaned and buried his face in his hands again, elbows propped onto the table. Graham hummed, full of empathy. He gently took down Dan’s hands and peered into his red-rimmed eyes to make sure that Dan would understand, bushy brows contorted.

“Look, I’m not ok with what happened, and I never, ever will be. And I will never stop missing Jenny, in each and every little thing, as long as my heart beats, aye? She was a part of me. The better part, mark you,” Graham chuckled sadly.

“But I stopped blaming God for something that comes down to human free will. It is neither HIS nor the Devils’ doing when some murderous nutter takes a rifle and storms into a school to shoot children and teachers alike, without mercy or empathy for their mortal fear! That is purely the shooters’ doing. And the shooter will face the consequences!”

Graham chuckled again, less sadly this time “One of the benefits of believing, I guess - I am sure that that son of a bitch who took Jenny from me will end up in Hell! The shooter of your Love will, too, I’m damn sure of that!” That was the very first moment where the new knowledge that Lucifer was indeed the Devil shot through Dan’s mourning haze like a bolt of lightning. _Yes, Hell was real!_ What had happened to Pierce, aka Cain? Lucifer would be able to tell him if the bastard was now stuck in Hell!

Graham’s expression became more serious as he had difficulties interpreting the strange face Dan made. “Daniel, listen, it is not God’s fault if a society values the profits of one of its businesses higher than the lives of its children or that of my wife. If we had both been living in Scotland, or in any other European country, the whole thing would most likely never have happened and Jenny would still be by my side!” Graham sighed. “But we left Europe and came to a weapon-loving country. That was not God’s decision, it was ours, and ours alone.”

Daniel thought of the special hurdle that Charlottes last will posed to him. Lucifer. As in, the Devil.

Dan sighed. He had to make sure that there would not be too much room for a conundrum.

“One question, Father. Do you think that the shooter who took Jenny’s life was possessed by the Devil?”

Graham gave him a piercing ice-blue stare, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind Dan’s question.

“Do _you_ think that the man who shot Charlotte, this criminal who was disguised as a police Lieutenant, that _he_ was possessed by the Devil?” Graham challenged, bushy brows raised.

Dan scoffed at the absurdity of Marcus Pierce (the bastard!) being possessed by _Lucifer_ , _the_ Lucifer they knew so well, the Lucifer who stole his pudding when he thought Dan wouldn’t notice, or who revelled in inappropriate remarks in particular when he was able to throw them towards Dan. Who had saved Trixie and Chloe from Malcolm, who had mysteriously retrieved the antidote formula and looked like _Hell_ when he was back with it....

The Lucifer who had recently saved their daughter, again.....

Dan shook his head. “No, padre. _Never ever._ That bastard Pierce did what he did just because he wanted to. Because he could, because he was _sans empathy_ and because _he was_ _evil_. The Devil...” Dan swallowed and closed his eyes briefly, “...the devil had absolutely _nothing_ to do with it!”

Graham nodded in acknowledge at Daniel’s fierce reply. “I think the same, you know”, he mused. “The devil did not make that shooter kill my Jenny. That’s what the shooter decided to do.”

You know, we as humans all love to have scapegoats for our weaknesses, someone to take our responsibility, someone to take the blame.” Graham held up the amber liquid and peered through it as if it spoke to him.

“Humankind may even have _invented_ the story of the Devil, just to have someone to blame.... Don’t tell anyone that I’m not adhering to the Holy Book here!” Graham chuckled, cocked his head and peered into his tumbler as if to take aim. “I _may_ have had a bit too much _uisge beatha_ ”, he murmured, “...got a bit too philosophical, aye?”

Graham cleared his throat. “Ok, back to work! Your Love expects us to do better, doesn’t she? So, let’s go through the ceremony and fulfil your Love’s last will....”

Just then, for a brief, peaceful moment, Daniel felt as if Charlotte stands behind him, touches his shoulder and smiles at him - joyful and unrestrained, the way she did when he gave her the little bracelet. Daniel blinked. He felt peace wash over him for the first time since he had clutched her body to his chest, dead and lifeless.

_Aye, water of live, indeed!_

All that was now left to do now was to seek out Lucifer, tell him what Charlotte’s last will was regarding him, the letter she had left for him; and if necessary to ask a favour from the Devil and be prepared to repay.

_Screw that, anything for Charlotte!_

Daniel gazed into the amber liquid as he took another sip. _God_ , he was now confident that Devil and Priest would get along quite well.

Graham did not only have an unusual clerical worldview as a priest.

Dan grinned.

What was more important, he had an excellent taste in whiskey.

\--------------------***************---------------------

The buzz crescendo’ed until the bells began to toll.

The sound reverberated through Chloe with a new-found reality. The buzz of talking people calmed down. Some prepared for devotion; others just tuned down their voices and continued to whisper animatedly with their neighbours under their breath.

Chloe took in the scenery.

The altar had not been just decorated with the Holy bible; but also with things that normally did not belong there: little gifts like children made them for their parents - drawings, handicrafts that looked like a stags (or goats?) made out of chestnuts; a waffle iron (she was sure it was the one Dan had purchased), a set of hair tires, and a lawyer folder full of recherché results.

Chloe guessed that it was a copy of the file that had been handed over to the FBI to clear up the Sinnerman mess. There was the coffin close to the altar; it was a simple white wooden one, not extravagant, just elegant. It was decorated with two crossed red roses. Close to the coffin stood, dominating the sanctuary, Lucifer’s shiny black grand piano.

 

As the bell sound ceased, Pater Graham stepped forward and opened the ceremony. The way he led it was so _different_ from what Chloe (and probably a lot of the attendants) had expected. Full of compassion, of understanding for those who grieved. And what was even better, full of eye-twinkling irony towards those who had only come to get juicy details.

“We as humans all struggle to find a good path through live. A path where we do not get loaded with guilt, with things we regret in the end. Yes, we are designed to choose wrong and fail, we do not always succeed. But we can get up and try to do better, again, as long as there is breath in us - we can keep trying, keep fighting.”

“That was exactly what Charlotte did – fight to become better. To lead a life that mattered - to those who had no one to defend them. To seek justice for them.”

“And you know what? Seeing how her work has exposed a criminal network, I’d say: _She bloody well succeeded!_ ” Graham thundered. Ben Wheeler Sen., Charlotte’s former partner who had placed himself in the front row, twitched a bit in his seat.

“Sometimes, it needs a drastic event in our lives to make us change our path, or perception.” Graham spoke softly as he looked at Charlotte’s children, and Dan. “As in, leaving behind old habits and moving on to new challenges. Even, as in...” his eyes twinkled, “....dying and being re-born!”

Chloe shivered. The priest must either be quite intuitive, or he had gotten quite close to the truth just by coincidence. Or, someone had given him insights....

Graham peered over the crowed whose attention was now tightly focused on him. He cleared his throat. “You may ask: Why did God allow this? I answer you: God had nothing to do with the shooters’ decision to end Charlottes life! It was his decision, and his alone – and he will suffer the consequences! You may ask: Was this the Devils’ doing? Was her killer just a misguided sheep? Well, I tell you: He was neither misguided nor innocent! He was simply doing evil, which backfired onto himself – with no one else to blame it to!”

“How do we know what is wrong, evil even, and what is right? Aye, it’s quite simple, folks: Wrong is what creates sadness, grief and harm, in those of us who stay behind.” Graham gestured at the altar and all the little items of affection on it. “We are all born with a sense for right and wrong. And with the ability to choose our path in life. A great gift, when you ask me! The gift of free will: We can decide to go against our inner voice if we want to. Or, rather, to follow it.”

“That is what Charlotte did in her last weeks and months. Follow her inner voice, her inner light. Yes, she finally died for her choices. But _she_ had found her path and followed it, true to her choices. She had found love.” Graham gently smiled down at Dan, who had pulled up his sunglasses to hide his eyes.

“And so she reached her final destiny, earlier than we would have liked. Where you will meet her again, when the time has come....”

Chloe shivered again. In her head, she suddenly heard Lucifer’s voice “ _She has gone where I simply can’t follow, detective_ ”. Her heart clenched at the sudden thought, the dawning perception that Lucifer had by far more reason to grieve than any of them had.

“Charlotte has asked for something special for this... _occasion_ , in her last will. She has asked for a friend to give her, or better, you, a last musical farewell” Graham supplied, gesturing gently towards the piano and stepping back into the shadows.

 _Did he know that he was inviting the Devil into his church?_ Chloe mused.

There he was. She had not really seen how he had strolled into the sanctuary space, but suddenly he as there. Lucifer. The Devil. Her partner. Her friend.

Chloe took in his appearance, drank it in. _Why...? What was she thirsting for?_

Outwardly, he looked impeccable as ever in his black suit, white shirt and a bow tie. However, there was a cloud of sadness surrounding him as he sat down at the piano bench. There was none of his usual gleeful _joie de vivre_. He arranged his cufflinks and prepared himself to play.

Briefly, their eyes met when his darted sideways for just a second. The depth of his sunken dark eyes and his sadness hit her like a ton of bricks.

\-------------------------

When Lucifer started to play total silence fell. He started with something that sounded, well, otherworldly. After a few moments, Chloe recognized it. It as from a movie.... _Interstellar_. Inerwoven with something else. As if something, some _one_ , arrived. On earth, probably.

It reverberated around the cavernous space that was the church interior. His music created room... room for grieving, for sadness.

She could not take her eyes away from Lucifer’s figure, his body language. He swayed in the stream of music, the amazing _sound-turned-feeling_ that he created with his long, caressing fingers. It was magic and he lived in it. Just in this moment. He WAS music....

Then his music changed. Again, it was something oddly familiar.... Chloe’s eyes went wide as she recognized it. It was... damn, no! That was not possible... she grinned. _Games of Thrones!_

Chloe picked up Lucifer’s brief, piercing glance towards Ben Wheeler – was there some red in his eyes? Suddenly she knew _exactly_ what Lucifer was doing: He described Charlotte’s life, by music!

Lucifer artfully morphed the _Games of Thrones_ title theme into something that sounded like _awakening_.... sad, and wild, like a distant foggy shore where you find yourself waking up after a strange dream.... _Michael Nyman_ , Chloe recognized – _the heart asks pleasure first_ , from the Movie “the piano”... one of her favorites!

The notes echoed under the huge ceiling of the church, reverberated with subsonic waves.

It was impossible not to be moved, not to be gripped by the way Lucifer played – his whole body swaying back and forth, his eyes closed, lips half opened, his entire heart pouring out and his hands dancing across the keys. His movements were part of his music. He was present just and only in the moment, shining, _revelling_ in music, which floated all around him, as if it was his natural cloak....

The Devil was beautiful when he spoke music. Chloe noticed that his eyes glistened when he blinked.

Ella and Linda, to her left, had moved forward in their seats, upright – drawn to Lucifer’s music that filled in the entire church to the brim, that widened the roof, that touched the stars....

A quick glance to her right told her that Trixie and Zoé held hands and that both had tears running down their cheeks. It was only then that Chloe felt the wetness on her own.

\--------------------

On Lucifer went, taking them all on with him on the ride that had been Charlottes life, her struggle, her fulfilment. A wild ride, where Chloe recognized unexpected, amazing tid bids here and there. Snippets from... _Deamworks movies_ , even! Was this the wild ride music from “how to tame your dragon”, even?

Lucifer touched his own face with the back of his hand in a little absent-minded gesture that told Chloe that he was completely unaware that he was crying.

Finally, the music morphed again into something directed into space... _Interstellar_ again.... then morphing into a warm, embracing chord, as if someone was impatiently running home, through sunshine-bathed landscapes, towards their loved ones... the dying scene of “ _Gladiator_ ” emerged before Chloe’s inner eye. It faded away. Then silence, for a second.

Then Lucifer started a more earthly song that Chloe recognized, that she had loved so much when she was a teenager. Back then, the song had been overused. In commercials, TV spots, in news and in too many satire shows.

However the way Lucifer played it was new, was raw, was fitting. Oh, it was fitting, so much!

It was the first song he complemented with his voice.... _his angelic voice_ , she thought. Hesitantly, not carrying. Chloe was sure that only the first benches could hear him, and that he intended it exactly like that.

Suddenly Chloe understood what the girls had been talking about – Lucifer’s version was so different from the cheesy, overused original. Gentle, hesitant.

 _You are save in our hearts, and your soul will go on and on_ , his piano sang, his warm voice reverberating around the cavernous church with subsonic chords. He had modified the lyrics.

But not all.

 _Love can touch us once, and last for a live time_ , he sang, _and never let go, until we’re gone_. Lucifer looked briefly at Dan, who had covered his face in his hands, the sunglasses not being enough. Trixie had hugged her Dad from behind, her cheek placed on his back in comfort.

Lucifer looked up at her, Chloe. His gaze raw, hurt, longing. _Once more, please open the door,_ he sang _, you’re here, in my heart, and my heart will go on and on._

His rich dark gaze went straight into hear heart.

She couldn’t help it – she understood. So deep it hurt. So much.

Lucifer would remain behind. Always. Again and again. He was immortal.

After she and everyone else had left. His heart would go on. When hers would stop.

They would all be gone, gone to a place where he was not allowed to follow.

\-------------------------------

When Lucifer had played the last note, he just lingered for a moment, swaying slightly, then rubbing his hands on his trousers after the effort.

Then he got up. Before anyone could start out on the idea of clapping, he stepped away from the piano and _just disappeared_.

Without looking at her.

But Chloe knew where to find him.

And make him talk.

By music.

**Author's Note:**

> Some links to the origins of Lucifer's music mentioned in Chapter 1 (Spotify):
> 
> "Interstellar" (Main Theme Soundtrack)  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/4Fx2a44W3JYyhS1x2UVmVE?si=oIfajPQTQDuKLwwKID1Nrg
> 
> "The heart asks pleasure first / The Promise" - Michael Nyman (The Piano):  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/2Yjv7MOdst5y6fFsq4cKOL?si=4IIUlBpCRpSW9cICikVWsg
> 
> "Now we are free" from "Gladiator" (Lisa Gerrard):  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/1raWfcURBd1Q3W3K0ojDCM?si=_vZVSTkPQRaJ-lLcYyZ47g
> 
> "My heart will go on" - Piano version by David Tweedy:  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/5TJXflDBBLtMx8oZhwP7Q0?si=IIPl32eqQjqmGXxykn_bKQ


End file.
